Will and won't
by Lilith33
Summary: SPOILER! After Dumbledore's demise there is little hope left in the wizarding world. Can Dumbledore's last Will change the course of the war and Harry Potter's destiny? And why is Severus Snape so frightened?
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to Rowling.

&&

**Will and won't**

_**Prologue…**_

The hollow Bellatrix' laugh was nearly unbearable. Very nearly. One more inch of it and Severus Snape was sure he would start retching.

"You smarmy git!" Bella chocked on her laugh like there was too much of it to swallow. "So it seems that you have chosen the right side, after all! Of course you yourself made sure that it will be the winning one. Bravo, Snape! Ten points to Slytherin!"

"You know very well, Bella, that I was ALWAYS the Dark Lord's faithful servant. So stop ridiculing yourself" said Snape coldly.

His eyes were hollow and dark like the pit of Hell. He looked calm and composed, his fingers playing with a glass of wine. There was nothing behind his spy's mask indicating even a slightest distress.

No one knew what Severus Snape were thinking. Not in the past, not in the present, not even in the future. That was his Ace. That was his winning side.

He smirked. Lestrange was sucking at her lip, suddenly lost in thoughts.

"Give it away, Bella. I see that something is bothering you."

"Where is Cissy and Draco?" she whispered, looking nervously at the door.

"I have already informed you that I have no idea. Draco Disapparated right after he stepped out of the school magic boundaries. I had no contact with him since then."

"Oh, but you KNOW!"

"Prove it."

She was mad now. Yes, women and their shifting moods.

"You know, I think that I will tell the Dark Lord about your little… deal! I know he will be very interested in this kind of information! His most faithful servants plotting behind his back!"

"Don't forget, that you were a binder, Bella."

"I had no choice…"

"Every one of us had a choice!" He suddenly jumped on his feet and Bellatrix started. "Grow up, Lestrange! The Vow is impossible under the Imperius curse, so we should assume that we made it with our free will! So stop pouting about this, now, and let's start dealing with consequences!"

His face was in a full sneer. Bella's cheeks were red from embarrassment.

"Well, well…" she drawled. "It seems to me that loosing a good job and a safe hole to hide hurts a lot, doesn't it, Sevvy? A sore point we have here. Now you see how it is to be a prey…"

"Shut up or I will kill you."

"Don't worry, my poor bat. Without Dumbledore all of it will fall apart. The Phoenix Order. Resistance. They are already debating about closing the Hogwart's. Ha, the safest place in the world! Now we will kill them all, one by one…"

"Write out a plan of the Dark Revel, will you? It will keep you busy while not murdering."

He threw her a parchment and walked upstairs. Maybe he will be able to catch a few hours of sleep.

He needed it.

&&

The flames soared high. The wail of anguish shook the castle's walls, running up higher than any fire could.

The stands were full of people. And her eyes were full of tears.

Albus…

Unbelievable. Incomprehensible.

"Who is he? Slughorn, have you heard of him?"

"Who?"

"This tall stranger in traditional burial robes. Long black hair tied in a ponytail. Keeps his chin high. Must be a pureblood."

"Really, Filius. Dou you expect me to know everyone in the wizarding world? Blast, I have no idea."

"He sits in the first row. He must be the Albus' relative or a really good friend."

She looked at the first row, amazed. A relative? She haven't heard of any. But she wasn't privy to every Albus' secret so it could be possible…

Through her watered eyes she saw a blurred, dark figure. Her mind whirled, her heart jumped.

"Sirius!"

"Minerva?" asked Flitwick, concerned.

"Is that…" she whispered, not sure of her own voice.

"No, Minerva. I'm sorry. This isn't Black, nor anyone from Black's family."

"No, _I_'m sorry. I'm delusional" She brushed away tears and looked again. "But he really looks familiar. And… wait! Haven't you noticed that this is not the traditional English outfit?"

"Hm. Now, when you pointed it out I really see…"

"Oh, you two! Stop debating and listen! This is a burial, for Melin's sake!" came the irritated voice from the row behind. Moody growled audibly and send them a warning, semi-artificial glare. "And if you were more interested in life outside and the newspapers, you would know that this mysterious stranger is Sergius Alcar Wolvein, the French magnate."

"And what is his connection with Albus?"

"Merlin, woman, does there need to be one? He is the bloody MAGNATE!"

"Well, maybe a French representative, then" said Fillius and went silent.

Not long after that the white tomb closed, Minerva gulped, feeling waves of something uncanny gnawing at her.

It must be a depression. Because of Dumbledore's absence. Because of Severus' betrayal.

Because the trust have died.

&&

The Ministry's Conference Room was too oppressive and too hot. Minerva, squeezed between Remus and Slughorn, could barely breathe.

"Well, it seems that our mysterious French is still with us" muttered Slughorn.

He was. Still in the first row. Still clad in black.

"Is he in mourning?" whispered Minerva, intrigued.

"It might be his usual style, as well. Like the person who we both were thinking that we knew…" said Slughorn slyly.

"No, it is not" came the calm answer from her right. "And yes, he is. In mourning."

"Who…" started Minerva, but Remus Lupin hushed her. He was smiling softly.

The Minister of Magic stood up and started to read. The silence became even more tight.

"_I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, being of sound and disposing mind and memory, do make, publish, and declare this to be my last Will, hereby expressly revoking all Wills previously made by me…"_

Minutes ticked. No one was really shocked that Albus give all his wealth to the Phoenix Order, with annotation that this is to be used on the war and for the post-war reparations. It seemed that Albus had no estates, that or he didn't mention it in his last Will. His private possessions went to different people. Sinistra nearly burst in tears, when she heard that Albus offered her a huge part of his mysterious astronomical gadgets. Hagrid was given The Dragon Permission and he ran out, muttering something about buying a really huge specimen, to burn away every bloody Death Eater.

"Dobby can't! Dobby can't!" wailed the poor House Elf, when he heard that he became the rightful owner of Headmaster's impressive collection of socks. "Dobby will take care of them, Dobby promise!" he said at the end, resigned to his fate.

Everyone got something of Dumbledore's. To not forget him.

Wise move, Headmaster, thought Minerva.

"_And the rest of my possessions, which I haven't mentioned above, goes to my godson, Sergius Alcar Wolvein…"_

"WHAT?" gasped Minerva. "He has a…"

"Shhhh!"

"… _I hope that he will use them wisely. However, with this possessions goes the duty. I require my godson to ward the Hogwart's School of Magic and Wizardry, as the wards I have put myself will disappear right after my death._"

The Minister lifted his eyes and gazed expectantly at the dark haired man, sitting in the first row. Sergius Wolvein stood up and nodded lightly.

"I will be obedient." He said, his soft baritone reverberating in the small room.

"He is not happy with it. Why I'm not surprised?" muttered Lupin, supposedly to himself.

"Why?" blurted out Minerva.

"His family was extradited from England soon after the death of Grinewald. Officially because of some connections with the previous Dark Lord. He doesn't like England. I bet he do this only because of his godfather."

"Poor chap" muttered Slughorn.

"Oh, poor he is not." Lupin smiled mysteriously.

"Well, monsieur Wolvein, I suppose that this part of Will is irrelevant, as we are closing Hogwart's" said Minister with an air of superiority. "So you don't need to…"

"But Minister …" Sergius Wolvein broke in. " As I was informed, there was no official statement. I believe the matter is still under discussion."

"Is it?" asked Minister of Magic coldly.

And then Sergius Wolvein made two steps and faced Scrimegour. There was an odd fire in Wolvein's eyes. The Minister step back a little, something akin to fright showing on his face.

"Well, Minister… I'm willing to discuss it."

There was a surprised silence. Minerva didn't understand Wolvein's meaning. Slughorn too, guessing by his shocked look. Only Remus smiled softly, knowingly.

Who, the Hell, is he? And why Dumbledore send him to us?

&&

"_DAILY PROPHET SPECIAL: IS ALCAR OUR SAVIOUR? A 32 YEARS OLD FRENCH GUARANTEES THE HOGWART'S SAFETY! THE SCHOOL WILL BE REOPENED IN SEPTEMBER!"_

"They let this KID cast the wards? What a farce! Minister obviously lost his head – haven't you seen any vampire slayer nearby? Really, my closet is going to be better warded than Hogwart!"

Snape, who was clutching his copy of the Daily Prophet in white-knuckled grip, groaned and pressed hands to his ears. Regretfully, that didn't block the Bella's flood of accusations.

"I don't understand how could they believe him" muttered Lestrange. "They should know better."

"They believe him, because he doesn't believe anyone" said Snape curtly. "It's that simple."

Bella examined him carefully.

"Something's wrong with you, Snape" she stated. "Do you know this Sergius Alcar guy?"

"Oh, yes."

Bella blinked.

"And?"

"What?" Snape looked at the newspaper with hatred. "What do you want to know? That Wolvein shouldn't be taken lightly? Because he shouldn't. Or maybe that he will hunt me till I meet my very painful death? Because he will. And he have an unique skill – he is superb in finding people. That is what do you want to know?"

"Who is he?"

"Oh, don't think that I know him so well. I have never met him … Well, it's all the matter of trust."

"Snape, you are babbling."

"Do you know why Dumbledore trusted me?"

"Believe me, not."

"Because of him."

There was a moment of silence which was broken by a cackle. More cackles followed, soon transforming into a maniacal laugh.

Bellatrix looked shocked. She was probably the first person to see Snape laugh. There was no joy. This laugh was like the disease which goes through the human body.

A painful one.

&&

The top of the Astronomy Tower. A light breeze played with the shorter hair, which escaped from the ponytail. He breathed in the summer mountain scent.

"Exhilarating. Majestic. Powerful. I envy Albus" he said, smile playing on his lips. "This is the wildness of nature which I miss in the French landscape."

His listener cocked his head questioningly.

"No, I don't like England. Even if I can understand why our country kicked us out. It's perfectly reasonable, isn't it? Albus was crazy to inflict a plague like me upon his beloved wizards. But, seeing that I'm already here, I can't refrain from a little show, don't you think?"

His listener trilled delicately.

"Yes, I agree that you are the only sensible part of him. If I am to once more listen to his portrait's incoherent talk, I swear I will start throwing baguettes at him! Merlin, and his 'suprises'… Thanks very much, I was shocked enough by you. Who will think – Albus' unmentioned possession! I suppose I'm positively stuck with you, aren't I?"

Fawkes nodded enthusiastically and ruffled his feathers. Next moment, a jet of red light shoot from one of the castle's windows.

"See, they are ready. Time for a foreplay. Monsieur Voldemort will break his teeth if he dares to bite us."

The Phoenix trilled a sad melody. Fore one fleeting second there was an odd play of emotion on Sergius' face. The fire in his eyes turned cold.

"No Death Eaters this time. I promise."

He lifted his wand. And the warding began.

&&

AN: OK. Because my readers wish so, this will be a longer story. First chapter soon. Reviews are appreciated!


	2. Aren't we the warriors?

DISCLAIMER: Rowling is the Queen of Harry Potter's Universe. Severus Snape is the Prince and her own child. So I suppose I cannot be taken as anything more than a humble servant of the Royal Family.

&&

_**Chapter 1**_

_**Aren't we the warriors?**_

It was nearly the middle of the holidays and there was frost on Dursley's lawn. Of course, it might be qualified as one of the Unidentified Weather Symptoms of rapidly changing climate, especially as long as you were a Muggle. Harry wasn't, so instead of watching Muggle TV where climatologists and blurry-eyed visionaries were prophesying about the end of the world, universe and everything, he subscribed to the Daily Prophet.

It was quite informative, those days. E.g. last week there was an article about the number of war casualties, followed by a very long and very detailed explanation why the Ministry's Aurors seemed to do nothing about the Death Eater's attacks. Even more interesting was a scientific report on Dementors and how their number have already overstepped the limits of environment's capacity.

If there were any signs of the Order's activity, they were few and far between. Maybe it was because the Order members haven't yet shook off the shock of Dumbledore's death. More probably, they were at loss of what to do. Both reasons were equally depressing and day after long day Harry felt a cold dread rising slowly in his chest: they were on a lost position.

Loads of articles last month were committed to the mysterious Dumbledore's godson, monsieur Sergius Wolvein. Well, Harry supposed that in desperate times people clung to desperate hopes. Not, that he wasn't impressed by what the young French have done. Hogwart's was still safe, maybe even more than previously. Monsieur Wolvein surrounded the castle with the strongest wards known by the wizard's society. They were a set of extremely complicated arthimantic protections, called 'The Wall of Fire'. Hermione in her letter described them as 'bloody brilliant' and that, coming from her disciplined mouth, must have counted for something. The wards were pretty restrictive, as well. Other rooms than the strictly necessary ones were closed off completely by the charm. No people without the special key build into their fingertips were able to get into the castle. The Hogwart's practically became a fortress. Oddly enough, that piece of information seemed to be comforting for many student's parents which haven't any objections to let their children return to the castle at the beginning of the school year.

All thanks to Sergius Wolvein. Or Alcar Wolvein, as the public was referring to him. This was the most confusing thing for Harry. Honestly, what was wrong with his first name? Was this little similarity to Albus Dumbledore so important? People probably thought monsieur Wolvein to be their saviour.

Ha. Quite obviously, Sergius Wolvein couldn't care less. Right after amazing the whole community by casting The Wall of Fire, he disappeared at the other side of the English Channel. He didn't even looked back, nor he have said a word about his abrupt departure. It was even worse that stating officially that it wasn't his war to fight.

Harry was livid. Honestly, what was the late Headmaster playing at? Firstly, the unwavering trust he placed in his murderer, now this. How he dared to give people hope only to take it away? More days Harry thought about it, more he felt he couldn't be passive. Because this WAS his war to fight, and he felt a desperate need to help, to do something for greater good, not only to rot in this Muggle hole to the end of the world. So at last today he gathered his Gryffindor courage and began to write a letter to Sergius Wolvein. Maybe just once his forever damned status of The Boy Who Lived will help him to win this battle.

After all, he was a warrior.

He just have put his final thoughts on a parchment when the screeching aunt Petunia's voice demanded his presence on a dinner. He muttered some obscenities, shoved the parchment aside and descended the stairs to the kitchen.

"Still eating our dinner?" barked uncle Vernon the moment he spotted Harry. "Aren't you ashamed, boy? Because you should be! With the fortune your bloody godfather left you, you should pay for your meals!"

"Thank you so much, uncle" said Harry coldly, sitting on his chair. "Don't you worry. Only four more days and I promise I will not bother you anymore. Check your calendar, uncle! ONLY four days!"

"What a cheek this boy have! I hope that you will take with you this freaking weather changes. I will NOT tolerate the frost in the midsummer!"

"Vernon…" muttered aunt Petunia with a hint of fear in her voice. "It's not only us… It's the whole England…"

"Yes, and it's all the doing of the freaks like him! I can't believe that the Prime Minister…"

Suddenly, a blazing green light flashed outside, startling the whole family. Mr. Dursley just opened his mouth to share an ironic commentary about little criminals playing with fireworks near the decent people's houses when Harry leapt to his feet and run outside.

"Where are you going, come back here this instant!" roared Vernon Dursley. Harry haven't heard. Blood pounded in his ears when he galloped along the street in direction of a frighteningly familiar house. He hoped he could fly. He also hoped, beyond hope, that the worst haven't happened yet.

It was a slim chance, seeing that there was a Dark Mark hovering above Arabella Figg's house.

'They have murdered her!' thought Harry furiously, running harder. 'She was a Squib, for God's sake! She was defenseless and they murdered her! It must be Him, this slimy, traitorous coward!'

Somewhere deep in his agitated mind was a thought that he shouldn't go there. That he was what they were waiting for. But he didn't care. A need for revenge were stronger than the rational part of him. He won't let anybody kill the innocents right under his nose.

He dashed in through the open doors. The house was oddly silent. Breathing heavily, he stood in the entrance of the living room and gulped.

Whoever have done this, must be by now far away.

Arabella Figg's body was lying sprawled on the carpet. Her eyes were opened, staring at the ceiling and there was still traces of pain on her face. They must have interrogated her before she died. Around her Harry saw three of her cats, also motionless and one hundred percent dead.

Someone's frightened cry waked him. Harry blinked, looked once more at the shocking scene and darted out of the house. So, the Death Eaters probably knew by now where he lived. Harry supposed that the only thing stopping them from capturing him was Dumbledore's securities. But four more days and the securities would be no longer present. He must leave the last members of his family and do it quickly. There was still a chance that, if the Death Eaters get to know that he is elsewhere, they will not kill Dursleys.

"Where have you been?" Vernon Dursley's face was adorned with the ugly reddish splotches. "What's that…"

"I'm leaving. Now." said Harry, pushing uncle Vernon aside and running upstairs. There was a noise of heavy footsteps and Vernon Dursley stood at his bedroom's door.

"Why now? We have heard that you are staying four more…"

"Are you going to miss me?" snarled Harry, throwing his robes into the trunk. "Because I don't think so! Some things get complicated so I must hasten our farewell. You know, as nasty as you are, I don't wish your death, so let me be! Goodbye, uncle Vernon!"

Harry picked up the letter he was writing before dinner and looked through it. It should be good enough. He scribbled his name at the bottom, rolled the parchment and opened Hedwig's cage. The snow owl looked at him questioningly.

"Hedwig, I have a job for you. It's very important so don't save your wings. You will take this letter to Sergius Alcar Wolvein, wherever he is. Don't leave until he reads it."

The owl hooted in confirmation, took the parchment and flew through the window. Harry, not looking at uncle Vernon, who was still standing at the doors gawking at him, took his trunk and walked downstairs. He left it on the pavement and returned for the rest of his possessions.

He once more looked over his room.

No, there was nothing of his left in this house. Three more years, and Dursleys will forget that he even existed.

"Harry, you will tell Dumbledore, that we haven't failed, won't you?" asked aunt Petunia nervously from inside the kitchen.

"Like Hell I will" muttered Harry Potter, closing the main door. For one moment he stood at the pavement, pondering over the absolute lack of any kind of farewell. Finally, he shrugged and took out his wand.

The Knight Bus was as huge and purple as the first time Harry used it. Pity, that Shunpike wasn't as cheerful. He looked at Harry blandly and muttered "Get in."

"The Burrow. Quickly, please" said Harry.

&&

Their meetings, so far, were held in exactly the same kind of isolated, damp and murky places. There was a substantial benefit to them – no kind of sane person could be caught wandering anywhere nearby, disturbing the absolute secrecy of said meetings.

Today was no different. This place wasn't less murky nor damp, especially as the summer day wore out and the huge, dark green leaves were dripping with water. He stood in the middle of a small clearing inside the dark forest, waiting patiently for Dark Lord to deal with the rest of his minors.

Clearly, Voldemort wasn't at his best. What the Dumbledore's demise done good for him was erased by the shockingly effective ward put on Hogwart's by the unknown French arthimancy specialist. He was still seething after this last punch from the late Headmaster, so he wasn't today in particularly forgiving mood. Severus listened with interest as he raged about the next time his skillful Death Eaters failed to catch Harry Potter. Interesting enough, it was the first time he have heard about this particular attempt. No, he wasn't foolish enough to dream of knowing about all Dark Lord's plans, but it would be nice if he had more faith in his second-in-command.

Suddenly, he found himself looking straight into dark red reptilian eyes. He was quite alone now, of course if you didn't count Bellatrix standing nearby, wearing a triumphant smile. The rest of miserable lot scurried away after a proper punishment.

"I should consider this in the future" hissed the Dark Lord.

Severus bowed deeply, breaking the eye-contact. Long, black and slightly unkempt strands of black hair obscuring his face have hidden his discomfort. "Thank you, my master. I shall never disappoint you."

"I think so. My patience is wearing thin, Severus. I understand there is still no trace of young Draco and his mother?"

Was there a whisper of a threat? Snape felt a slight chill running along his spine. He straightened and shook his head. "No, my master."

"We will let this matter rest. Temporarily. Malfoys might yet prove to be useful. Yes, and this lead us straight to your mission. You don't mind visiting Azakaban, do you?"

Severus noticed that there was mud stuck to his soles. Nearly, Bella made an sharp intake of breath. "Everything for you, my master" she croaked. Severus gave him a curt nod.

"Good. You will go there together and free every remaining Death Eater. You will order them to wait for my summon. Also, I want one more man from there. Huckley Eldebert. You will bring Eldebert to me as quickly as it is possible. Any questions, Bella?"

"Forgive me, master, but how…"

Voldemort, actually, laughed.

"It's sometimes profitable to have Dementors at your side. I was recently presented with a beautiful set of keys to Azakaban, as a payment for their debt. A most unusual set of keys, I think."

The Dark Lord smiled and for one moment he looked like one of his happiness-sucking supporters.

&&

"What were you thinking, Snape, bringing me to this Godforsaken pub?" muttered Bella angrily, pushing her hood deeper on her eyes. "The Aurors are roaming everywhere! Do you really want to stay in Azakaban for longer than planned?"

Snape sneered at the black and white picture of himself, scowling at him from the nearest poster. His imitation was squeezed between the huge black letters: "Wanted alive or dead" and a little smaller ones: "Prize: 10 000 galleons". 'Well, I'm famous at last', he mused. 'Wonder, if I should made them increase the prize for my head. Ten thousand feel… insulting'.

"Don't worry your beautiful head over this, Bella." he said a touch snidely. "The owner is an old acquaintance of mine, telling on us would be ill-advised for him. Besides, you need a large amount of alcohol to survive the experience. Me too."

Lestrange giggled hysterically. "Oh, Snape. Charming as always. This picture of you is awful. Whoever have made it?"

"You think I should consider murdering the whole Creevey's family? Why not, the prize might hit one million galleons, then."

"Watch out, Snape, you are tempting me!"

Severus smirked and looked around the dark inn. Little round candles gave away only enough light to create an atmosphere of comfortable anonymity. There were other people around, but no one was looking at them. It wasn't encouraged in "Devil's due".

Snape took a sip of his firewhisky. Bella downed a glass in three gulps and demanded more. Her eyes became decidedly glassy.

"So, Sevvy, how are you going to get through the guards?" she slurred.

"Use that nonexistent brain of yours, Bella" muttered Severus. "Dementor's keys open dementor's secret passages. There are places in Azakaban where no man was seen since the Grinewald wars. The passages lead to the caves near the sea. From there we catch a portkey to England."

"Oh, good that you are such a great brain, Snape. Because I have thought that this mission may turn out to be a wee difficult. Forgive me that I have ever doubted your ingenuity."

"Of course it will be difficult. I have thought you rather like challenges, don't you, Lestrange?"

"I'm lovin' it. Let's seal our agreement with a kiss."

"Merlin, but you _are_ drunk!" hissed Snape, moving back on his chair, his face screwed up in disgust.

"Relax, Snape. I don't care to know how you taste after this month of hiding." She smiled cruelly. "And when it come to _other_ things… Maybe the next time I will catch you unguarded."

"Never in my life."

They eyed each other for a long moment. Bella looked considerate and a little bit playful, Snape was wary. Eventually, they ended their staring contest and returned to their beverages.

"So, what do you know about this Huckley Eldebert? Do you have any idea why the Dark Lord needs him?"

Snape blinked several times.

"Oh, sorry" He smiled thinly. "I have nearly forgot that you were rotting in Azakaban last time his name was in the newspapers. Let me help you. Huckley Eldebert was considered to be the most ingenious thief of our century. Extraordinary brilliant one. But if it comes to the matter of why, I have no idea."

That wasn't the whole truth. Snape had a few theories. Every of them was as possible as the other and neither could be shared with Bella.

It won't harm the warrior to have some additional means of defense. And Snape planned to use them all.

&&

In the midsummer, the Loara delta was beautiful with this overwhelming, heady beauty of a land full with maturing grapes and promises of sweet wine and happiness. Minerva wanted to never leave this place, grow roots into the fresh, black soil and celebrate the never-ending festive of death and rebirth. Even the medieval castles scattered along the river looked strangely lively and habitable.

She wasn't sure how she got into this one. The last she remembered she was looking at a solid, iron gate leading to the castle which was labeled as a "Private property". The gate was adorned with little wolfs' heads and Minerva had an uncomfortable feeling of being observed. Next moment there was a blinding flash and she found herself standing at a sunlit terrace, a bit shaken and not sure of what to do. Luckily, her inner struggle ended as quickly as it began with the help of a voice coming from behind her.

"Professor McGonagall? The unexpected visitor, but it's my pleasure nonetheless. Bonjour, madam. Welcome to my heritage, the Wolvein's castle."

She spun around and faced her speaker. Sergius Wolvein in deep maroon robes and in his own territory was looking even more royal than previously. She have wondered many times if purebloods have sucked this kind of attitude with their mother's blood or were taught it, but she supposed it didn't matter. Despite his pleasant smile she felt like an intruder. Worse even, her instinct was begging her to drop the matter and escape as quickly as possible. Luckily, then she have heard a happy Phoenix' trill and she finally have found her voice. She firmly told her instinct to sod off.

"Really, monsieur Wolvein? I was sure I have send you a notice concerning my arrival. Good afternoon to you, too."

"Oh, Merlin! That's my fault, then. I'm deeply sorry. I'm rather difficult to find, maybe the poor owl wasn't able to reach her destination" He looked regretful all right. So why Minerva noticed something akin to gleam of triumph in his black eyes? "Do you want to come inside?"

"Thank you, I like the landscape. Besides, I couldn't stay long, I must return to the Hogwart's. The Board of Governors appointed me the new Headmistress…"

"Please, let me congratulate you!" Wolvein snapped his fingers and a little House Elf wearing maroon handkerchief appeared. "Kinky, champagne for two!"

"But, really…" Minerva didn't get to finish her sentence when she was presented with a delicately shaped glass resembling a lily. It was full to the brim with a sparkling beverage. She took a sip. "Gods in Heaven!"

He had a pleasant, deep laugh. "And the best for you, Headmistress." He raised his glass. "Surprised? I have always known that you, English, know nothing about the wine!"

"It's really nice of you, monsieur Wolvein. But I wish to go back to the matter that brought me here." No, she _wouldn't_ be easily distracted.

"An that is?"

"You know quite well if you have read my letters."

He furrowed his brow. "And you, my dear headmistress should know my answer. I thought I couldn't be more straightforward. I'm a researcher, not a warrior, no matter what tales my godfather was presenting you with. I have fulfilled my duty. What makes you think that I'm inclined to die in the war that is not mine?"

"Maybe the esteem in which Albus held you?"

"And what do you know about this?" He inquired, smiling softly, dangerously. "I think that nothing. So please, drop it."

"Bloody Hell, Wolvein!" Minerva was becoming really angry. "I'm asking for you only to take this job, not to bloody kill everyone! You don't need to actually fight, if you want you don't need to stick your nose out of the Hogwart's castle! You only need to be there. Don't you understand the meaning of a symbol?"

"The people better start believe in themselves than in symbols if they wish to win this war" he retorted calmly. "And don't fool yourself, Headmistress. If I go there, I would fight. Anyway, I'm not the Dark Arts specialist so I really don't understand why do you want me to become the DADA teacher. Want me to lift this goddamned curse? Well, I suppose I could work on that." He gave Minerva a big, cheeky grin.

"Monsieur Wolvein." She sighed deeply. "I really don't know how to talk with you…"

"I admit I have this problem myself. Depressingly often so."

"You cannot be passive to the end of the world. There could be a time when Voldemort wouldn't be satisfied with only England. He will try to conquer other countries… France, for example."

"No. Not, as long as I'm here." He smiled with a smile Minerva started to recognize as a predatory one. She eyed him, dumbstruck. There really must be more to the man than he allowed to see her. She planned to confront him about that. But maybe Heavens wished to leave her only with this enigmatic sentence. Because then a familiar looking white owl landed on a railing, a scroll of parchment hold tightly in her claws. Hedwig looked very proud of herself. Sergius Wolvein gave out a noise of surprise and took the parchment from the owl.

Minerva was left watching as French unrolled the letter and began reading. "Right" he muttered halfway through the page, his brow furrowed. At last, he looked at her and sighed. There was an odd determination in his eyes.

"Bloody Gryffindors." He shook his head. "Your lot really is stubborn. All right, you have your teacher. Expect me in three days. See you, Headmistress."

&&

AN: Next chapter wholly in England and I promise you far more action. Reviews are appreciated!


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